You Meet Dan and Phil
by CamiIsMagical
Summary: You walk out of the rain in London, ducking into a nearby Starbucks, only to run into Dan and Phil, who seem highly interested in you... A path of winding, twisted romance lays ahead of you, ending with a forked road. Who will you choose, Dan or Phil? Disclaimer- I don't own Dan or Phil (as much as I wish I did *wink wink*), and does it look like I'm making money off of this?
1. Chapter 1

Part 1

You walk down the chilly streets of London, shivering as fat raindrops hit your head and exposed arms. You remember contemplating whether or not to bring your coat, and, cursing yourself, step into a nearby Starbucks. It's only slightly filled, about 9 or 10 people sitting in booths around the store, on laptops or reading books, all clutching their hot drinks. You walk to the cash register, your mind full of thoughts about a delicious hot chocolate only moments away. The cashier is blonde, with blue eyes that sweep over you as you step into view. He's cute, but a little too burly for your type... He smiles and reveals dazzling white teeth. Definitely not your type.

"How can I help you today?" He asks, surprising you with an American accent. Momentarily caught off guard you can only stare at him. Idiot! Do you _want_ him to think you're checking him out?!

"Er- large hot chocolate, not too much whipped cream," you say, and he smiles once more, winking before turning to make your drink. You can feel your face, flushed and hot, probably bright red, and you curse yourself once more. After possibly the most awkward waiting- in- line experience ever, you hastily pay for your drink, nod in appreciation, and sit down in the far corner before you can do any more damage.

As you sit, sipping idly at your hot chocolate and pondering the events of the day, the doorbell tinkles and two loud British people enter the Starbucks.

"... told you not to buy the whole store, I mean really-"

"But the Pokemon section was on sale, you can hardly blame me..."

Wait a minute, you recognize those voices... You glance up, trying to calm your frantically beating heart, trying to quench your hope before you become disappointed. The eyes of Dan Howell and Phil Lester are staring back at you. I've died, you tell yourself. Died and gone to heaven. They quickly order their drinks from the blond American boy, still staring at you. Or is that your imagination? Are they really looking at you?

What do you do? Do you go up and introduce yourself? Do you gush and fangirl everywhere? Probably not the latter. Meanwhile, you sit and stare at the two most perfect boys in the world. Like a creepy stalker, you are. The Ken- Doll (as you've decided to name him) flashes his white teeth at them and hands them their drinks; Dan pays.

You hallucinate them walking up to your table, smiling and laughing, talking together. Wait. No, you're not hallucinating. Are they seriously approaching you? Your hands get sweaty as your heart rate launches off again, you can feel your face flushing cherry- magenta. Suddenly, there they are, standing in front of you, looking down at you, smiling.

"Hey, mind if we sit with you?" Dan Howell. Is talking. To you. You shake your head frantically, not trusting your vocal cords. They beam again and slide in the bench across from you. "I'm Dan, by the way," Dan speaks again, causing your heart to stutter and nearly fail.

"And I'm Phil," Phil Lester. Is talking. To you.

"I know," you splutter in a strangled whisper. "Watch... YouTube... fan..." You always knew your vocal cords would betray you.

"Hey... are you okay?" Dan asks, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. Suddenly, you can't stop the torrent of words falling like a waterfall from your mouth.

"Omigosh, I have never been better. Here I am, miserable and stuck in the rain with no coat, ducking into the nearest store, which happens to be a Starbucks, then trying to avoid a flirting American Ken- Doll cashier, and heading to the back of the store to sulk and then all of a sudden my two favorite YouTubers just burst in talking about Pokemon and then coming up to me, with the whole wide store open, and talking to me of all people, and now here I am and I just..." You clap your hand over your mouth to stop the torrent, this time turning bubblegum pink. You just gushed. And fangirled. To your surprise, however, Dan and Phil are laughing.

"It's good to meet a fellow socially- inept person who is accidentally funny," Dan says, brushing fringe out of his eyes, still grinning.

"I think that just about sums me up," you say. Are you seriously having a conversation with Dan and Phil?

You chat through the afternoon, occasionally making them roar with laughter. You gush again as they berate you with non-stop questions, telling them about your hobbies, your favorite color, your life. You tell them about your parent's divorce, your recent breakup, your loss of a best friend, and Phil sympathizes with you. You talk about your personality, frequent sarcasm, and laugh about awkward situations with Dan.

You notice the time at around 5 o' clock, and, reluctantly, tell them you have to go or your Dad will be mad at you. Subconsciously, you rub the bruises on your arm he gave you last time he got mad... You brush it away and stand up to leave.

"We can give you a ride, if you want," Phil says, glancing out of the window at the clouds still pouring rain.

"That would be fantastic," you say, wondering what their car looks like. Cheerfully, they clean up the mess of cups on the counter and shove them in the trash. Are you dreaming? Did that 2- hour long hangout with DAN AND PHIL seriously just happen? You pinch yourself, and when nothing happens, you gleefully follow them out of the store.

The ride home is short, especially due to the fact that you still find yourself able to keep up a conversation. It comes so easily, so naturally, like breathing. When they finally park outside the gray apartment complex, drizzled with rain, you sigh and reluctantly begin to clamber out of the warm car.

"Wait!" Dan says, and you turn back, hardly daring to believe your ears. "Here's our emails. We're trusting you not to release them to the entire internet," he says with a wink, handing you a piece of paper with two email addresses.

"Maybe we can meet up again sometime," Phil adds with a cheerful smile and wave. You hop out of the car, wave goodbye, and clutch the paper to your chest, the only evidence that the best day of your life really just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Only when the car holding the two most amazing people in the world turns a corner and disappears do you sigh and turn to face your gray, dingy apartment building. The run- down, rain-washed, dirt covered building must be at least a century old. The stairs leading up to the third level are rusty and creaky, and you feel them shaking under your feet as you stomp up them. It's unfair, really, and just plain embarrassing that you had to direct Dan and Phil to the outskirts of London, to the dirty one story homes and RV parks. You would much rather live in the the world where you directed them toward a mansion, saw their awed gazes flicker across acres of green grass. In that world, you would be pretty, too, you decide as you unlock apartment C3.

The door creaks open, its hinges emitting sounds that resemble banshee screams. Your eyes sweep over the familiar sight of the dirty white carpet, the gray couch covered in holes, and a TV from 1970- something. They also catch sight of the empty beer bottles scattering the floor. Half of them look fresh. Dad's been drinking again.

You sigh and close the door as quietly as possible. Maybe he won't notice you're home. Wading through the bottles and other assorted trash, you hear Dad calling out your name in a drunken slur. There goes that hope. Once you reach your room, sure to lock the door, you set down your book bag. Like the rest of the house, your room is dingy and shabby, with dirty carpets, paint- chipped walls, and iron framed bed with a single torn mattress, and a desk missing a leg with a partially- broken table lamp on it. Outside, you hear Dad yelling something unintelligible, and glance fretfully at the lock on the door.

You dig in your book bag until you find what you're looking for: a worn copy of The Little Princess, and flop down on the bed, listening to the springs groan in protest. The book is special to you, you've had it since you were five. A memory swims through your head, a woman's voice, reading calmly to you... That must have been before Mom left. Once you open the book, however, the sad world you live in slips away. You are a rich, somewhat spoiled girl, covered in layers of pretty clothing, clutching a small doll as your loving, devoted father holds you in his lap... The image is shattered, however, when a fist slams on your door, which rocks on its rusty hinges. You hear your name again, slurred by drunkenness. This is normal, for you. Just sit and wait, stay quiet, and he'll go away.

But this time he's not going away. The fist slams into the door repeatedly as you look for an escape. Your only option is the closet. As the door shakes and shudders, you slip yourself into the small closet, close the door, and crouch down. The door to your room breaks open; you hear it slam into the inside wall. Dad lurches inside, cackling.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he says, staggering about the room and laughing wheezily. "You can't hide forever." You hear him looking under your bed, searching through the drawers in your desk. It's not long until he gets to the closet. And sure enough, after a slight pause, the handle to the closet door begins to turn, slowly, menacingly, until it is wrenched open.

"BOO!" Dad shouts, cackling as he discovers you cowering in the depths of your closet. You raise your arms to shield your face as his fists slam into you.

The next morning, you wake up sore. Purple bruises pattern up and down your arms, encircling the old yellowed ones. Your face is tear streaked, and you desperately try to clean it with the sleeve of your hoodie. After a moldy- bread breakfast and a cold shower in the grimy tub, you open your closet for today's outfit, selecting a leather jacket, a red and black plaid skirt, black stockings, and combat boots. You'd love to give Dad a good kick in the face while wearing these...

The old, wheezy computer sits in a small closet next to Dad's room. If you could only sneak 10 minutes on it... You tiptoe quietly and hear the sound of snores echoing from the filthy room. You poke your head in and see Dad, passed out naked on his bed. Every inch of the floor is covered in beer bottles. With a scoff of disgust, you close his door and turn to access the computer.

The damn thing belongs in a museum, you think to yourself as the prehistoric machine wheezes to life. Slowly, it loads. You log into your account, and wait another 6 minutes for it to Welcome you. About ready to smash your head on the keyboard, you click on the Internet Explorer icon. It feels like a crime to use the blue 'e' with the halo, but if you downloaded Chrome or even Firefox you would bet your life savings of $10 it would crash and burn. After agonizing minutes tick by, you are finally able to open your email, and though slightly lagging, type a quick message to both Dan and Phil.

 _Hey Dan and Phil,  
_ _I'm still in shock that I actually got to talk to you yesterday. I don't know if you remember me, but you gave me your emails so here I am. If you think I'm a crazed weirdo that's okay, a lot of people do, just tell me and I'll never talk to you again. If not, I'm free today and would really, really like to meet you guys again to make sure I'm not having weird hallucinations._

You have a feeling the emails were a sick, cruel joke. There is no way DAN AND PHIL gave YOU a way to contact them. You would probably think it was all a dream if it weren't for the piece of paper with two email addresses written neatly in two different handwritings. As you sign your name and hit 'send,' you expect an email to pop up instantly, saying something like ' _you're a lifeless loser and you just got TROLLED!_ ' But nothing happens until a few minutes later with a small 'ding!' two new emails pop up.

 _Yo.  
You are a crazed weirdo. And so am I. So we're all cool here. You can come over to the apartment and chill with us. We'll pick you up at 2. Be there!  
_ _-Dan_

 _Hello!  
I first of all want to assure you that you are NOT a crazed weirdo (whatever Dan might say). You are a really sweet, interesting person with a great sense of humor. I think Dan probably said this, but we'll swing by your apartment at 2 o' clock. And I sincerely hope I am not a hallucination.  
Love from  
Phil_

You can't help but scream inwardly at their replies. How could this be happening to you? You glance at the clock, which reads 9:30 am, giving you 4 and a half hours to pass. Might as well go to the library...


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

The walk to the library only took 15 minutes. You could go to the nicer library, the big one deeper in London. But this one appeals to you more. It just feels more... homey. Not cold and cut like the one downtown. It's a squat little building, only one story high, made of concrete. You enter and the smell of old books waft over you. Inhaling deeply, you wander the aisles.

The psychological battle inside you is torn between obsessively thinking about Dan and Phil, but also being surrounded by books. You can't seem to multitask; your mind pulls you one way, then the other. You ponder the amazing afternoon ahead of you. Meeting Dan and Phil again is already completely amazeballs, but the fact that they are giving you a TOUR OF THEIR APARTMENT. Your inner fangirl screams.

Your mind wanders back to books. The Open Boat, 5 Arabian Nights... All old classics, stuff you've already read. You silently meander the maze of bookshelves, images of Dan and Phil flickering through your head. A while later, while curled up on a bean bag clutching a Stephen King book, you check your watch and practically throw your book. It's 1:55. You explode out of the library, running full speed down the the sidewalk towards your apartment.

Just another block... One more block... Your chest heaves with the effort of hurtling down the sidewalk. Your muscles burn, you want to stop, but you can see the car pulling around the corner, stopping at your apartment complex. You reach them with not a moment to spare. Wheezing and gasping, you skitter to a stop and collect yourself, then open the door.

They're there. You can't believe it. The two most amazing people in the world came back to see you. Dan's in the drivers seat, chewing his lip. Phil's turned around in the passenger seat, smiling at you.

"Look, I know I'm gorgeous," says Dan with a cough, "but are you going to stand there all day and stare at me or get in?" You flush again and clamber into the backseat, laughing a high, tinkling laugh that doesn't belong to you.

"We saw you blasting down the sidewalk," says Phil with a smirk. "Where were you coming from?"

"The library," you say quietly, waiting for them to burst into laughter, but they both nod.

"Makes sense," Dan says, grinning at you while he waits for the light to turn green. "I was expecting like a strip club or something, I spent a whole night in one once without realizing a minute had passed."

"Dan," whines Phil, smacking his shoulder. Dan laughs. You keep up a continuous chatter all the way to the apartment again, this time discussing favorite books. Dan, you are surprised to be informed, loves the Maze Runner. Phil, however, sticks with Narnia. "Lions," he says simply. You laugh. They ask you what your favorite book is.

"The Amazing Book is Not On Fire," you mumble absently, not aware of saying anything out loud, therefore confused when they start to laugh.

"Ah, yes. No one can deny that beautiful book is the best on the planet," Dan snickers.

"Way to be modest," says Phil.

"If only I knew who the authors were... I bet they're pretty cool people," you say, sweeping your eyes over them. "Yep, definitely not you guys." They howl with laughter, and you can't help but smile. You aren't even at the apartment yet and your cheeks already hurt from constant grinning.

Finally, they pull up to a sleek, modern looking apartment building. You can't help but gaze with awe as you get out of the car.

"THIS is where you live? Are you sure it's not like a hotel or anything?" you say, still stricken.

"Har har. Come on, we're on the fifteenth floor." Dan starts walking towards a set of concrete stairs that leads up into the apartment complex, spiraling out of sight. You think of your rusty, shaky metal stairs and sigh with envy as you start up the sturdy steps. Fifteen flights of stairs later, muscles about to collapse, you manage to pant out-

"No wonder you guys never go to gyms. This is a workout in itself." Phil grins and sticks the key into the door.

"Dan's running stuff he bought makes a lovely display in our closet," he says, earning a hard kick in the shins from Dan. The door swings open with not a single creak.

"Welcome to our apartment."


	4. Chapter 4

The door swings open and in front of you is a sight you've seen many times in video. The steep stairs ahead make your muscles groan in protest. Dan smiles and holds his hand out to say "after you" and you brush by him to begin the climb. Your arm touches his and you feel it tingle where the warm skin made contact with yours. Being in the apartment sends you over the edge. You dart from room to room, hardly believing your eyes. Surely you're dreaming. There is no way you could be IN DAN AND PHIL'S APARTMENT. Eee!

After you have thoroughly combed the apartment, pausing particularly on their bedrooms, you sit in the gleaming kitchen.

"... took me hours to clean," Dan says to Phil, and you blush. Did they clean the entire apartment just for you? They enter the room, engaged in conversation.

"It's not my fault your room looks like a pig sty," Phil retorts. They stop when they see you.

"Done already?" asks Dan, eyebrows raised in surprise. You nod sheepishly. Phil chuckles and sits next to you, soon followed by Dan on the other side. You heart flutters and takes a moment to begin beating again as you realize how close they are. Dan is staring at you questioningly and your mouth goes dry.

"Sorry, what?" you whisper, your mouth dry. Dan laughs.

"Just wondering where you wanted to go for lunch."

"Oh. Well , I know this really awesome cafe not far from here..."

10 minutes later, the three of you are sitting at a table outside a small cafe.

"I know it's not much, but I come here a lot and I've grown fond of it,"' you say, motioning towards the peeling paint and rusty chairs.

"Are you kidding? This place has so much character! I love it. I can't believe we haven't been here before," Phil says, his eyes shining.

"If the food is good, I approve," Dan says with a wink, and you raise one eyebrow as a waitress rounds the corner to your table. After ordering, you continue the bubbly conversation, once again talking about each others lives. When you mention your Mom, you see Dan's eyes meet yours, full of concern. Instantly, your cheeks begin to flush and you look away to spare your poor heart, only to meet Phil's eyes, full of sympathy and ice blue fire.

"It's not all that bad, really, I can't remember her much at all," you mumble, lowering your head to stare at your lap instead of into the four gorgeous eyes currently boring into your soul.

"That doesn't mean it's unimportant. You've lived a life without a Mom, and that must be so hard," Phil says, resting a hand on your back.

"You still have a Dad though, right?" Dan says hurriedly. "Is he any good?" A harsh laugh escapes your lips. Without warning, a hand is under your chin. You feel a pull and respond, raising your head to look into Dan's (surprisingly close) face. "You don't have to be afraid," he murmurs, his breath wafting over you with a scent of peppermint and another soothing smell you can't quite place. The moment is broken when the waitress clanks around the corner, a tray full of plates. You pull free, blushing furiously, and take your meal from the oblivious server.

"Thanks," you say politely before picking up your knife and fork. Naturally, Dan has already stuffed half of a croissant sandwich in his mouth, and you can't help but laugh at the sight. Phil joins in and soon the conversation is at full speed again, full of jokes and laughter and sarcasm. You talk about dreams, you discuss the future (and the inevitability of death, almost leading to a triple existential crisis attack); you talk about everything from animals to books to how annoying fingernail clippins are. Finally, for the first time in your life, you feel at home.


	5. Chapter 5

You finally finish your meal and lean back in your chair, your cheeks hurting after all the smiling and laughing. You've never been so happy in your life. The waitress arrives and smiles sweetly.

"All finished?" she asks, beginning to pick up the empty plates and cups.

"Yes, thank you," says Phil. He reaches to grab your plate to hand to the waitress, his arm brushing yours, sending warmth in all directions. You turn your head to hide your slightly pink cheeks. The waitress drops off the check, and you pull out your purse, praying you have enough. Dan snatches the bill from right under your nose.

"Oh no you don't," he says, pulling out his wallet. As he unclasps it, Phil sneakily slips the envelope from under Dan's nose. "Phil!" Dan explains, grabbing at it as Phil holds it just out of his reach.

"I insist," Phil says, winking as he puts several notes into the envelope. In turn, you pull out a few pence and leave it on the table for the waitress. Dan looks upset.

"Where to next?" you say cheerily, gathering your things and bouncing out of your chair.

"Eager, aren't we?" Dan says with a grin.

"Candy shop! Candy shop!" Phil chants, beginning to run to the car.

"Not so fast!" Dan hollers, sprinting after him. You laugh and soon enough you're racing to the car, your combat boots thudding heavily on the pavement.

"No fair!" You whine, stumbling slightly as Phil reaches the car. He hops in the driver's seat, bouncing eagerly. And then you fall. A small shriek escapes your lips and your feet smack together, the pavement approaching your face slowly. 'Clumsy idiot!' is all that passes through your mind. To your surprise, you feel hands wrapping around your waist, pulling you upright, and before you're aware of what's going on you are in Dan Howell's arms.

"Careful there," he murmurs, his lips close to your ear. Flushing magenta, you quickly (and shakily) straighten yourself. His arms drop and he grins. "It's hard being clumsy," he chuckles, before hopping into the passenger seat. Several moments pass as you stand, frozen and motionless, before you collect yourself and swing into the back seat. Phil is glaring at Dan. As soon as you buckle your seat belt, his eyes return to cheery and innocent as he speeds off to the candy shop.

The smell of sugar, the sight of rainbows and brightly colored candies, and the sound of a taffy machine greet you cheerily as you swing open the door. A bell tinkles and the sales lady smiles.

"Half off the whole store," she says brightly, organizing a stack of collectible cards.

"Woman, your words just made my day," Dan announces, strolling into the shop. You chuckle and walk in after him, quickly followed by Phil. Together, you dart from shelf to shelf, scooping up everything your heart desires. Yorkies, Milky Bars, Wispas, and even a few Lions. For once, Dan's eyes are just as bright as Phil's as you zip around the shop. 20 minutes later, your arms filled with sweets, you line up at the register. Dan pays for his candies and heads for the door. In front of you, Phil leans over the counter and whispers something before paying and joining Dan by the door. You head to the counter, fainty wondering what Phil was up to. Before you can pull out your money, however, the sales lady smiles.

"The gentleman in front of you already paid for both you and him, dear," she says sweetly. You whip around to face Dan and Phil, fire in your eyes.

"Phil!" you shout, narrowing your eyes. He grins and winks. You can't help but notice Dan, quietly fuming and glaring at Phil. You brush it off and head to join them. "You didn't- you shouldn't- honestly,," you say, exasperated.

"Sorrynotsorry," he giggles before exiting the store. You roll your eyes and glance at your watch. It reads 5:07 and you groan.

"You have to head home, don't you?" Dan says, frowning. You nod and rub your bruises again. "Right. Well, um, before we re- join Phil and stuff, I wanted to talk to you in private." He clears his throat and you tilt your head, curious. "I know we've only known each other for a couple days, but I think you are the most beautiful, incredible, hilarious, and amazing person I've ever met and I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner tomorrow night?"


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6

You stand there, shocked. What did he just say? Surely you didn't hear him correctly. Maybe you're just in a padded cell in a mental hospital right now, dreaming this whole thing up, you say to yourself.

"I-"

"I'm sorry. I understand if I'm being intrusive, it was really rude of me." As Dan turns to leave, the reality of the situation sinks in.

"Wait!" You cry out. "Wait! Of course, yes, I- I was just so shocked, I'd love to have dinner with you- if- that's- alright- with..." your sentence fades off as Dan's chocolate eyes meet yours and he bites his lip softly. "Um."

"Hey losers!" Phil cries out from the distance, standing near the car. "Would you hurry up?"

"We-we're coming!" You manage to say.

"So, is that a yes?" Dan asks, rocking back and forth on his feet.

"Absolutely," you say, still shocked what just happened was real. "Um, what time?"

"I was thinking tonight, if you're free. But since you always have to be home at 5..."

"Oh, no worries. My Dad's usually passed out by 6:30," you say, not realizing what you're saying. Dan's brows furrow and you laugh, trying to pass if off. "Wow. Um, that sounded weird. He, uh, works really early in the mornings, so he's usually asleep earlier in the day. I can slip out in time for dinner." The concern and confusion slides off Dan's face and is replaced with a grin.

"Great. I assume I'll be picking you up then? At say, 7?" You nod excitedly and Dan pulls you in for a hug. Surprised, you wrap your arms around him and pull away just before Phil can wipe the jealousy from his face. Soon, though, he's back to his smiling self.

"Hurry up, lovebirds! Places to go!"

They drop you off at 5:15, your arms loaded with shopping bags from the things they bought you at the mall. You wave goodbye with what arm you have available and head back up to C3. You open the door and freeze.

Dad's sitting on the couch, TV on, beer in his hand. His sallow, grimy face turns as the hinges of the doors wail. He's up in an instant.

"What the fuck are those? Where have you been? I thought you were locked up in your damn room, like always!" He strides towards you and knocks the bags off your arm, sending them flying and skittering across the room.

"Dad, please. I just went out with some friends, we did a little shopping."

"And where'd you get the money, huh? Where'd the money come from, bitch?" He roars, smashing the bottle against the ground. You feel tears but refuse to let them spill.

"They- they paid for it, Dad," you say, your voice cracking, the tears threatening. "Please, I'll go to my room now, I won't bother you any more."

"YOU WILL NOT GO TO YOUR ROOM, YOU'RE ALWAYS IN YOUR FUCKING ROOM!" Anger builds up inside you, pent up anger of 14 years of your life after Mom left.

"BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU DRUNK BASTARD! YOU CAN'T SPEND A MINUTE OF YOUR LIFE SOBER, NOT EVEN TO TAKE CARE OF YOUR GOD DAMN DAUGHTER! INSTEAD YOU, FORCE ME TO HIDE FROM YOU AND HIDE ALL THESE BRUISES FROM MY FRIENDS, YOU DICK!" His fist swings down and hits you, hard, on the side of the face. That one's going to leave a mark.


	7. Chapter 7

Part 7

You huddle in your room, curled in a tight ball on your bed. Cold, salty tears drip off your face, soaking the moth- eaten sheets below you. "Life sucks," the voice inside your head tells you. "Life sucks." Outside, it's raining. Again. You don't mind. The rain calms you, soothes you. A soft blanket of depression numbs you for a moment before you hear Dad screaming unintelligibly and smashing more bottles. The pain returns, piercing you like a stake to the heart. He's sobbing, shouting, slamming his fist into the wall. You drown him out as more tears fall down your cheeks.

The only thing keeping you from jumping from the grimy window in your bedroom is the thought of Dan. Your eyes flicker to the clock. 6 pm. You think of canceling the date with Dan, but that would require leaving the imaginary safety of your room. You stay put, and you wait. You think of Dan, his chocolate hair and his adorable crinkly eyes. The way he talks, his laugh that always makes you laugh. Phil flickers through your mind, too, his face radiating sunshine, his mesmerizing eyes, his pale skin and raven hair. You sigh and the tears begin to ebb. You watch the minutes tick by.

 _6:07_

 _6:15_

 _6:23_

 _6:27_

 _6:30_

You listen. It's quiet. Unwinding yourself is the hardest thing you've ever done. The remainders of the blanket of depression leave and you're left with the agony in your heart and on your face. You shuffle through the apartment and check. Sure enough, he's passed out naked on his bed. You go to the bathroom to check the condition of your face.

A deep purple bruise has sprouted across your cheekbone and down most of your face. A few more tears fall. Luckily, you're prepared. You pull out a bag labelled "Emergency Makeup" and dump it on the counter. After 20 minutes of work, your face looks as close to normal as it will get. You go to get dressed.

You pull out the only dress you own. It's old, and has even gathered some dust from the years you haven't worn it. Luckily, it still fits, and, bonus points, it's black. You look at yourself in the mirror and see the bruises dotting your arms. Quickly, you throw on a jacket. Better. You're proud of your face makeup, it's not bad. You could even call yourself pretty. If you had more money, you'd wear it all the time.

Your body isn't bad, you tell yourself. Skinny, to be sure, but pleasantly curvy. And not bad boobs.

You glance at the clock. 7:07. Dan's a little late.

As the thought passes through your head, a car horn sounds from outside. You look through your window and the pouring rain. Sure enough, it's Dan. You take a depp breath to steady yourself and head out the front door.


	8. Chapter 8

You head down the creaky stairs and stare out into the pouring rain. It's a threat to you makeup. You duck your head and sprint to the car, hopping into the passenger seat. You look up to see Dan, grinning like a complete idiot, and all your worries melt away. You smile back, and it's not forced.

"Where to?" you ask, as Dan pulls out of sight of your disgusting apartment building.

"That's a surprise," he says with a wink.

"I hope it's not anywhere expensive, I don't have too much money on me."

"Haha, you're hilarious. Natural comedian," Dan says. You roll your eyes. "You're wearing makeup. Why?" Your heart freezes inside your chest.

"I just thought, you know, it's a date. I should be fancy. I'm wearing a dress too."

"You look beautiful. And for the record, you're also beautiful without makeup." You smile, and this time it's forced. If only he knew.

You make small talk the rest of the way to the restaurant. It's easy with Dan. Eventually, he pulls up in front of a fancy bistro.

"Oh, hell," you say, and Dan grins at you.

"Come on, you'll live." A snooty looking doorman pulls open the doors and you walk in. Another snooty man offers to take your coat. Dan hands his over and a small flare of panic arises in your chest.

"I'll keep mine, thanks," you say with what you hope is a polite smile. He nods and hangs up Dan's coat. Dan casts a puzzled look at you, but doesn't inquire any further. You're lead to a clothed table in the middle of a quietly chattering restaurant. The waiters place down menus and depart.

"This place is so fancy, I'm going to vomit. None of them have spoken, but I can already hear their French accents. It's like, radiating from them."

Dan chuckles. "Don't vomit, I'm sure that would cause quite a scene." He pulls a snooty face and speaks in the worst French accent you've ever heard. "Ah, non, zis ees unacceptableh, 'ou haff ruined our fine tablecloth. Vat is zeeees?" You laugh so loud the restaurant falls silent for a moment.

"That. Was. The. Worst. Accent. I. Have. Ever. Heard," you say, still grinning. Dan smiles back at you.

"A for effort," he says, picking up the menu. You do the same, your eyes skimming over it.

"I bet all of this stuff is microscopic, and they serve it on those huge plates and drizzle Hershey's chocolate sauce over it and charge £1000 for it," you say. It's Dan's turn to laugh. Sure enough, when they bring out your platter of Braised Lamb Shank, it's barely the size of your palm. Another waiter sets down a small bowl of Gnocchi in front of Dan and you cock an eyebrow to say "I told you so!" Dan can barely suppress his laughter.

"Ees zere anysing else I can geet you?" Asks the waiter, and you nearly explode in laughter.

"No, thanks. We're good for now," you say, eyes watering. The waiter raises his eyebrows. As soon as he walks away, you both stifle howls of laughter into your napkins. "Oh. My. God." you gasp, trying to keep tears from streaming down your face. "That was amazing."

"We're probably going to be banned from here," gasps Dan.

"Maybe they'll put us on their secret French spy list," you say. "Beware of zees two, zey are not fancy enuff." Dan blows out air at an alarming speed before stifling his shrieks in his napkin.

"Oh, God, they're going to kick us out," he wheezes. Everyone in the restaurant is staring at you.

"Sorry to ruin your meal, folks," you say. "Y'all carry on with your pleasant evening." Dan's shoulders are shaking, his head on the table. "Don't die now," you tell him. "Save that for when you choke on your Gnocchi."

The rest of the night ensues and it goes perfectly. Dan pays the £130 bill without a single flinch, which you compliment him on. Secretly, you tuck £20 into his pocket. It doesn't cover everything he's given you, but it makes you feel a little better. By the time you leave, the rain has completely escaped your mind. Only when you're halfway to the car do you remember...

"What the hell?!"


End file.
